No Such Thing as Coincidence
by JayN1127
Summary: Somewhere, someplace deep inside, she knows that she is suppose to be here. Suppose to be waiting. For something she perhaps will never know.


**Waiting**

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All Inuyasha-related material belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and all Naruto-related material is owned by Kishimoto.

**Warning:** Mentions of near Super!Kagome. Slice of life and all the inane things we face in life. Stories are based on Canon, but are changed to better integrate Kagome. Slightly skewed timeline in Naruto-verse - if events and people don't match up, make a note and comment. All questions, comments and concerns can be addressed in the review section.

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She gazed out of her window for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, her eyes always falling to the aged well. The well that had initially only brought violence, bloodshed and a host of nightmares that even to this day still haunted her slumber. But despite her initial misgivings regarding her adventure, the times she had spent in the Feudal Era had become precious memories.

She thought about the Sister she had gained and her eyes softened, a smile playing at her lips. Sango was all hard lines and clipped words, but over the course of their time together, she had softened, blossoming into a beautiful young woman that was eager for her future. Eager to rebuild all that she had lost. Eager to share it all with a perverted Monk.

She couldn't help the snort that erupted from her at the thought of Miroku. She couldn't say that he changed all _that_ much, considering the propositions that continued to given to all the beautiful young women they met along the way, but she could tell that he was never serious. At least, it seemed that way at the end. He did have Sango to keep in mind, or more like Sango to keep him in check. Her Sister always seemed to know when the Monk's infamous hand was out and about, wandering for a pert bottom to caress and she acted accordingly.

She smacked the living daylights out of the Monk. Each and every time it happened, Kagome couldn't help the smile, even though she knew it was tainted with a hint of sadness, knowing the true reasons behind the act.

Times were so dark, and they were constantly on the defensive. Naraku could and would strike at any opportunity and the possibility that today could be their last grated on all of them. Made them weary. Tired. And in Inuyasha's case, irritated, and who would no doubt take the brunt of his irritation out on her or Shippou. She could only silently thank the Monk for injecting a hint of humor into the last leg of their journey. It only made her respect him all the more.

Thoughts of Inuyasha and Shippou always made her smile break, until she was left sobbing. Shippou was like a son to her. She cared for him. Fed him. Clothed him. Did all that she could to do right by him, considering the cause of his parent's death had been indirectly her fault. What started out as guilt and pity had quickly turned to love. Real love. Parental love. Oh how she missed that darling Kistune.

_And Inuyasha, oh, Inuyasha_, the girl repeated, the tears already starting to fall. Despite the years that had passed, the wounds never seemed to heal. Never seemed to close and allow her a moment's peace. That first year had been torture. Pure unadulterated torture. For her. For her mother. For everyone.

Her mother always looked at her with such sadness, sadness that she could never hope to alleviate. Her brother looked at her with betrayal, and she couldn't find it in herself to make him think otherwise. And her Grandfather, who was always so animated, was strangely silent and perhaps, that was worst than any reaction he could have given. Faced with her family's reactions, she did the only thing she could. Ran.

She retreated into herself, keeping them at an arm's distance. She just felt so _much_ and she just couldn't deal. And so she wouldn't, turning to her neglected studies. That was something she could deal with. Something she could change. Something she could have power over. She filled her mind with equations and theories proposed by the long dead. Day and night, she proceeded to go over her notes, memorizing ever detail, hoping that the day's lesson would push the other thoughts away.

Before she knew it, the year's end had come and remarkably, she too was counted among that year's graduating class. But despite the happiness and the sense of freedom that _should_ have been, there, the once-Priestess merely felt trapped. Suffocated.

She had only felt a measure of peace when she filled her mind to the brim with facts and figures, and the prospect of no longer having that option scared her. Terrified her. Filled her with dread. Her family issues, by that time, had somewhat subsided, at least her where her mother and grandfather were concerned. Her little brother, however, was another story.

Somewhere along the way, he had grown up and become a teenager, one that was loud and abrasive. She did not fail to notice the similarities between his once Idol but by the time that her feelings had been repressed - and that was just what they were, repressed, never gone - enough to function, he had completely disregarded her. Acted like she wasn't even there. Like she was dead.

And while she was sure she was suppose to care, she _somehow_ just _didn't._

_If my friends could only see me now,_ she had thought at the time, crushing her palms to her eyes, attempting to stem off the flood that was no doubt coming.

And so, she did what she was best at doing. Running. This time to University. To somewhere that would once against drown her sorrows and eventually, along the way, she chose pre-med. She was broken, wholly unfixable, but perhaps if she focused her time and efforts into fixing others, helping others, the pain she felt everyday would lessen. And so, she studied. Poured herself into the medical texts that were required and each year, despite how uncomfortable it all was, she returned to that shrine. She returned to the home and family that were strangers. She returned to the well where it all began.

She wondered why she voluntarily makes the trip up those once familiar stairs, but she shrugs it all off and walked on. At this point, she doesn't care about the reasons. Doesn't care about any of that. All she cares about is that somewhere, someplace deep inside, she knows that she is suppose to be here. Suppose to be waiting. For something she perhaps will never know.

And so, she sits alone in her room, looking through her window at the old well house. Surrounded by her memories, she sits alone, waiting.

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**To Be Continued**

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**AN: **First chapter into what will perhaps be a Naruto crossover. Still not sure if I will continue it, but we shall see.


End file.
